Compton has made up her mind
about the further steps----"

"Then just you advise her not," cried Lady Mariamne. "It doesn't matter
to me: I shall be none the worse whatever she does: but if you are her
true friend you will advise her not. She might tell what she thinks, but
that's no proof. Mr. Tatham, I know you have great influence with Nell."

"Not in a matter like this," said John, with great gravity. "Of course
she alone can be the judge."

"What nonsense you talk, you men! Of course she is not the least the
judge, and of course she will be guided by you."

"You may be sure she shall have the best advice that I can give," John
said with a bow.

"You want me to go, I see," said Lady Mariamne; "you are dreadfully
rude, standing up all the time to show me I had better go." Hereupon she
recommenced her little _manege_, drawing on her glove, letting her
bracelets drop again, fastening the fur round her throat. "Well, Mr.
Tatham," she said, "I hope you mean to have the civility to see after my
carriage. I can't go roaming about hailing it as if it were a hansom
cab--in this queer place."

CHAPTER XXVII.

John went down to Windyhill that evening. His appearance alarmed the
little household more than words could say. As he was admitted at once
by the servants, delighted to see him, he walked in suddenly into the
midst of a truly domestic scene. The baby lay on Elinor's knee in the
midst of a mass of white wrappings, kicking out a pair of pink little
legs in the front of the fire. Elinor herself was seated on a very low
chair, and illuminated by the cheerful blaze, which threw a glare upon
her countenance, and called out unthought-of lights in her hair, there
was no appearance in her looks of anxiety or trouble. She was altogether
given up to the baby and the joy of its new life. The little kicking
limbs, the pleasure of the little creature in the warmth, the curling
of its rosy little toes in the agreeable sensation of the heat, were
more to Elinor and to her mother, who was kneeling beside her on the
hearth-rug, than the most refined and lofty pleasures in the world. The
most lofty of us have to come down to those primitive sources of bliss,
if we are happy enough to have them placed in our way. The greatest poet
by her side, the music of the spheres sounding in her ear, would not
have made Elinor forget her troubles like the stretching out towards the
fire of those little pink toes.

When the door opene